


Heat Stroke

by Mad_Maudlin



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:57:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Maudlin/pseuds/Mad_Maudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princes don't faint. Merlin fails at stealth. Happen endings for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Stroke

"I didn't faint," Arthur said again.

"Sure you didn't," Merlin answered, again.

"I did not," Arthur insisted. "I don't faint."

"You just fall on your arse in the middle of the drill and can't stand up again," Merlin suggested.

From under the corner of the damp cloth on his forehead, Arthur glared. "That," he said acidly, "is how rumors get started."

Merlin just started the systematic process of replacing the compresses. In truth, it was surprising that more people weren't fainting in this heat, a wave of muggy air that had descended on Camelot like a punch in the stomach. For days now people had been going about with bare necks and bare arms, the kitchens had been sticking to sandwiches and salads, and the late afternoon had become mass nap time. Why Arthur had thought he could spend the day dueling knights--in full armor, no less--was utterly lost on Merlin; when they'd peeled him out of the steel, Gaius had ordered water, cold compresses and lots of rest until the dry red flush of Arthur's skin had faded.

It was night now, and Merlin was going through the motions for the umpteenth time: soak the clothes in a bucket, wring out the excess, and drape them over Arthur's face and chest and stomach, like the lukewarm water would do any good. All the windows hung open, in vain hope of a breeze, and Arthur had forbidden more than the bare minimum of candles.

Arthur batted Merlin's hands away from his forehead. "Oh, like that's helping," he said, echoing Merlin's own thoughts. "My head's still killing me, it's still bloody hot outside, a damp rag is not going to help unless you've got an icicle hidden inside it."

He threw off all the towels and clothes and then sprawled backwards, stripped to the waist, beads of water still clinging to his flushed skin. Merlin tried very hard not to watch how one of the largest droplets slid with agonizing slowness over Arthur's chest, how another traced the faint line of his ribs, how a third twinkled from the edge of his navel, caught on one of the impossibly fine hairs below it. He hastily bent down to gather the discarded clothes back into the bucket, and then fled to the windows. "I'll, um, I'll just, see if I can catch a breeze--"

"There's no wind tonight, you idiot," Arthur grumbled. "There hasn't been any wind for days."

"So we're due for a change, yeah?"

Merlin fiddled with the windows for a bit, and could almost convince himself he saw clouds building on the horizon, or perhaps he was confusing that with the pressure building in his trousers. He stole another glance back at Arthur, who had flung one arm over his eyes with a tremendously put-upon sigh. He really did seem miserable, and no matter what he tried to claim, he had in fact fainted, and...well...

I'm going to hell for this, Merlin thought. Because Gaius will kill me if he finds out.

He was hidden in the shadows--that's what he told himself--and Arthur's eyes were covered, so he couldn't possibly notice Merlin silently mouthing the words. Wouldn't see Merlin pursing his lips and blowing, gently, as if he were just blowing out a candle. All Arthur would notice would be the cool breeze flowing over him, whisking away those traces of water on his skin, making his nipples tighten and rise up in reaction. Arthur let out a breathy groan as the magical wind licked at him, even arched his back to let it go over and under, and Merlin had to stop because if he didn't clench his teeth just then he'd have started moaning along with him.

The wind died, and Arthur peeked out from under his arm--right at where Merlin thought he was safely concealed. "So," Arthur said. "Unless you've got an icicle hidden in your trousers..."

Oh, so not concealed. So far, far away from concealed. "I," Merlin started saying, and then realized there was no possibly way to finish that.

Arthur sighed. "Scratch that. Whether that's an icicle or not, get over here. If I'm to have heat stroke, I'd prefer to enjoy myself in the process of getting it."

Part of Merlin's brain gibbered in shock, but that was not the part that had at some point learned to obey. He was halfway onto the bed, hovering with one knee on the mattress, before he thought to ask, "You're not going to faint again, are you?"

Arthur glared.


End file.
